


Help Me Out

by arysa13



Series: Two Week Challenge - Round Two [8]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Embarrassment, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 19:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18394985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: When Echo drops out of Emori's bridal party a week before the wedding, Clarke is forced to take over the role. Apparently that involves dress shopping with Bellamy.





	Help Me Out

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked for "Clarke's at some sort of clothing store, gets stuck in a dress and needs to ask Bellamy to help her out"

Clarke has been given very strict instructions from the bride, Emori, and maid of honour, Raven, on which store to go to and which dress to get. She’d honestly been looking forward to just hanging out and getting drunk and having fun at the wedding, but now it’s a week away and Emori is down one bridesmaid, seeing as Echo dropped out when Bellamy dumped her.

Bellamy is tagging along to help make sure Clarke gets the right dress. Clarke had begged Raven to come with her, but Raven had better things to do, and had said, with a very pointed look at Bellamy, “I’m not the one who broke up with Echo a week before the wedding.” So, Bellamy is there, begrudgingly. Clarke isn’t sure he’s better informed than she is about which dress to get, but it’s probably less about him helping and more about him being punished for ruining the bridal party.

They haven’t spent much time together lately, mostly because sometime after Bellamy started dating Echo, Clarke had the gut-wrenching realisation that she’s in love with him. And consequently, every time she’s around him, she almost goes to fucking pieces. She doesn’t think he’s noticed her absence from his life, the way she’s noticed the big gaping whole in her heart without him.

“I think this is it,” Clarke says, pushing the door open, the bell tinkling as she and Bellamy enter. White dresses line the walls, and at the back, a small selection of bridesmaid dresses hang on a rack.

A woman with a smile that’s too large and eyes that are too intense approaches them with clasped hands.

“Welcome,” the woman sings. Clarke glances at Bellamy, and he stifles a laugh. She’s glad they can still seem to communicate through looks. “Are you looking for a dress, dear?”

“Um. Yes.” The woman glances at Bellamy uncertainly. “He’s here for… moral support?” Clarke explains.

“Very unconventional to have the groom help you pick a dress, but if that’s what you want…”

Clarke eyes widen, and a blush covers her skin when she realises what the shop assistant means. “Oh my god, no,” Clarke says quickly. “We’re not engaged. He’s just a friend. I’m not here for a wedding dress. A bridesmaid dress. My friend Emori might have called you? Or Raven?”

“Oh,” the shop assistant sags in disappointment. “Yes, we put the dress aside for you. Go and wait in the dressing room and I’ll bring it to you.” She heads towards the back of the store and disappears through a curtain.

“That was awkward,” Clarke says, glancing at Bellamy.

“I’m not sure if I should be offended at how important you thought it was for her to know that we’re not engaged,” Bellamy says.

“Well, we’re not.”

Bellamy shrugs. “Can’t argue with that.”

The shop assistant returns with the dress, and Clarke hurries towards the dressing rooms, Bellamy trailing after her. The shop assistant hangs the dress on a hook and ushers Clarke into the dressing room. The front door bell tinkles again, and the shop assistant hurries off to help who she clearly thinks is a more important customer. Bellamy takes a seat on the leather ottoman.

“I’ll… be out here,” he says. Clarke nods and pulls the curtain shut. She turns her attention to the dress. She doesn’t want to be judgy, but it’s one of the ugliest dresses she’s ever seen. It’s an earthy green colour, floor length with an empire waist and a high neck. From the waist line up, lace covers the satin material, and the skirt is chiffon. Clarke is wishing she’d said no.

She pulls the dress off the hanger and undoes the four buttons at the back of the neck. She struggles into the dress, pulling it over her head and squashing down her boobs so she can get the tight part over them. When she finally has it on, she looks at herself in the mirror to see her hair all messed up and her face flushed from exertion. She’s somehow got to get this thing on on the day without messing up her hair and make-up.

“Bellamy?” Clarke calls.

“Yeah?”

“Will you do up the buttons?”

She hears him get up and walk the few steps over to the dressing room. The curtain is pulled aside, and Clarke meets Bellamy’s eyes in the mirror. She brushes her hair aside, and Bellamy steps up behind her. Clarke tries to breathe normally. It’s so intimate to have him help her with her dress. She’s glad her face is already red from getting the dress on.

He fumbles a little with the buttons, but he gets them done up, and he steps back and Clarke turns around.

“Well?” she asks. “What do you think?”

Bellamy looks her up and down, considering. “Honestly?” Clarke nods. “It’s hideous.”

Clarke groans, dropping her head into her hands. “God, I know. But it’s what Emori wants, so I guess I have to wear it.”

“At least Raven and Harper have to wear it too?”

“Some consolation,” Clarke snorts. “You should’ve seen what I was going to wear. It made my boobs look so good.” Bellamy ducks his head, and Clarke thinks this time maybe _he’s_ blushing. “Sorry,” she says, her own face heating up. God, she’s such a fucking mess around him lately. “Too much information.”

“For the record,” Bellamy says. “I meant the _dress_ is hideous. Not you. And you know. We can’t have you showing up the bride.”  

“Okay, um,” Clarke stammers. “I should, uh, take it off.” She turns around, and Bellamy undoes the buttons for her, then quickly exits the cubicle. Clarke wrenches the curtain shut, hands shaking. She takes a few breaths to compose herself. She grabs the skirt of the dress and goes to pull it over her head. Except it’s so fucking tight at the waist, and no matter how hard she tries to tug at it, she can’t seem to get it over her boobs. She drops the dress, huffing in frustration. There is no way she’s getting out of this dress alone.

“Bellamy, can you get the shop assistant please?”

There’s a pause before, “She’s with another customer. What do you need?”

Clarke groans internally. She really doesn’t want to have to tell him she’s fucking stuck in the dress. It’s too embarrassing. “How busy is she?” Clarke asks.

“She’s holding some woman’s wedding dress together with her hands.”  Great, just great. Clarke blows out a controlled breath. “What’s wrong?” Bellamy asks.

“I’m kind of… stuck.”

“Stuck?”

“I can’t get the dress over my… head.” The awkward silence stretches on, and Clarke wants to die.

“Do you want me to help you?”

No, she doesn’t. But she doesn’t have much of a choice. “Yes, please,” she squeaks. Bellamy emerges from behind the curtain.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Just kind of… pull it over my head,” Clarke says. Bellamy seems unsure of himself as he steps towards her. He fists the skirt of the dress in his hands. Clarke can feel his eyes on her, but she can’t bring herself to look at him. This is so fucking humiliating.

“Okay?” he says.

Clarke nods. “Let’s just get this over with,” she mutters. She lifts her arms above her head, and Bellamy pulls the dress up. Clarke wriggles in an attempt to get the dress over her boobs. She’s imagined Bellamy taking of her clothes countless times, and it never happened like this. If the floor could open up and swallow her whole, that would be fantastic.

“You’re really stuck in there, huh?” Bellamy says. Clarke can hear the humour in his voice, and she knows he’s trying to make this _not_ awkward, but it’s not helping.

“Shut up,” she huffs. She’s just glad her face is covered by chiffon right now. They struggle with the dress for another minute, but it seems like it’s not budging.

“Clarke, don’t hate me for saying this, but I think you need to, uh, maybe…” he trails off.

“Yes?” Clarke snaps. Bellamy drops the dress so she can see his apologetic expression.

“Squash your, uh… breasts down a bit.” Clarke’s face turns absolutely crimson. As if this whole ordeal wasn’t mortifying enough.

“Okay,” she says. Bellamy lifts the dress again, and this time Clarke presses down on her boobs, trying to squash them under the waist line. With a lot of effort, and a little pain, the dress finally pops over her boobs, and Bellamy drags it the rest of the way off, so she’s left standing in her strapless bra and nude coloured panties.

Bellamy’s eyes flick over her, just briefly, before he hurriedly turns his attention to the dress.

“Thanks,” Clarke says.

“Yeah, um,” Bellamy stammers. “No problem. Should I take this to the front counter?” Clarke nods, and Bellamy hastily exits the fitting room.

Clarke takes her time putting her clothes back on, not ready to face him just yet. When she’s comes out of the fitting room, he’s waiting at the counter with the dress, the shop assistant still busy with the other customer. Clarke reluctantly joins him.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Clarke says. “You were just trying to help.”

“Well,” Bellamy says wryly. “It might be my fault, depending on how you look at it. You wouldn’t have had to try the dress on if I hadn’t ended things with Echo a week before the wedding,” he grimaces.

“Probably not the best timing,” Clarke agrees. “But she didn’t _have_ to drop out. That was her decision. So maybe I can just blame Echo.”

Bellamy laughs, and Clarke relaxes. It’s fine. They’re friends. Who cares if he saw her in her underwear, if he had to help her out of a dress that her boobs were too big for? No need to be embarrassed around him.

“Whatever makes you happy,” he says.

Clarke hesitates. “Just out of curiosity… why _did_ you break up with her?”

Bellamy drops his gaze, won’t meet her eyes. He looks more uncomfortable than when he was talking about her boobs. “I don’t know if… here is the best place to tell you that.”

Clarke shakes her head. “What do you mean?”

Bellamy glances over at the shop assistant. She doesn’t look like she’s coming over to help them anytime soon. He sighs.

“I know you don’t remember, but you called me, last weekend. When you were at Emori’s bachelorette party.”

Clarke’s stomach drops. Fuck fuck fuck. All she remembers from the party is that she was wasted, and that she woke up with a raging hangover. She _called_ him? What the fuck did she say?

“I didn’t hear my phone ring, so I didn’t pick up,” Bellamy says. “But you left a message.” He’s already got his phone out. Clarke doesn’t know if she wants to hear this. Her own voice comes out through the speaker, sounding slurred, teary, and a little pathetic.

“ _Bellamy. Bellamy, I miss you so much. Everybody’s so happy, except me. I’m so stupid. I can’t stand hearing Echo talking about you. She doesn’t get you like I do. You should be with me. I love you, I love you, I love—”_ A beep cuts off her voice.

Clarke stands there, frozen. She has no idea what to say, and even if she did, she’s not sure she’d be able to get the words out. He knows. He _knows_. Which is so much worse and more embarrassing than the dress thing. Except… weren’t they talking about the reason he broke up with Echo? Clarke meets his eyes.

“Did you mean it?” he whispers.

Clarke nods. She’s incapable of anything else. She swallows, trying to dislodge the lump from her throat. “Is that—is that why you broke up with Echo?”

“Yeah.”  

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” It’s been a week, after all. How long was he planning to sit on that message, pretend like he didn’t know she’s in love with him?

“I was planning on waiting until the wedding reception,” Bellamy says. “In case things didn’t go the way I wanted them to. I didn’t want to chase away another bridesmaid.”

“Are they going the way you wanted them to?”

“Well, we’re in a bridal store, I haven’t had any alcohol, and you haven’t started kissing me yet. So, no.”

She grabs him then, fisting her hand into his shirt and dragging his lips to hers. He cages her against the counter with his arms and hips, taking no time at all to kiss her back, and let his tongue slip into her mouth. A hum of pleasure escapes her mouth, and her arms curl around his neck to pull him closer. Nothing else exists except for him, his mouth on hers, his hands drifting from her back to her ass.

The shop assistant clears her throat. Bellamy pulls away, reluctantly, stepping away from the counter, red faced. Clarke turns to the shop assistant, out of breath, but refusing to be embarrassed. _Now_ she wants to help them?

“And how will you be paying today?” the shop assistant asks. Clarke hands over her credit card. She glances at Bellamy and he grins at her, a little sheepishly.

They’re barely out of the store before they erupt into laughter.

“I’m so sorry,” Bellamy says. “I got carried away.”

“It happens,” Clarke shrugs. Bellamy slips his hand into hers, as if they’ve been doing it forever. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Her heart feels free and light, and she can’t stop smiling.

“I don’t think we’ll be welcome back there,” Bellamy says.

“I wouldn’t want that woman helping me with my wedding dress anyway.”

“Speaking of weddings. Will you be my date to Murphy and Emori’s wedding?”

“Doesn’t the best man have to escort the maid of honour?”

Bellamy considers this. “Save me a dance then?”

“You can have as many as you like.”

Bellamy grins. “Oh, by the way. I noticed when I was taking the dress up to the counter. It has a zip on the side.”

**Author's Note:**

> main tumblr: keiraknighted  
> fic tumblr: arysafics


End file.
